


The Inventory Chronicles: Some Things Man Was Not Meant To Know

by DRAGOquing



Category: Homestar Runner, Monster Hunter, On The Rainslick Precipice of Darkness, Penny Arcade, Poker Night at the Inventory, Sam & Max, Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRAGOquing/pseuds/DRAGOquing
Summary: Based on Poker Night At The InventoryDestiny has other motives than just choosing its heroes. A prophecy was written long ago about the Fall of the Gods, but only now does it come true.Tycho did not want to be a part of any prophecy, nonetheless the hero of it. But now he, and all of his friends are forced to go on a great journey to kill three gods that are destined to bring back Yog Weh’Lun, an evil god of Chaos. However, he and the others would soon be surprised when Tycho’s niece Anne joined the cult…To bring their downfall from the inside.Excerpt:Zack, with a tinge of worry in his voice, hisses, “Lay, please don’t bring back The Old Gods Just because of Yog. We don’t need to do that.”“No, not with her around.”Anne, normally patient, normally kind swirls about the rock, hissing, “Apologies again, but please explain!”Layarteb sighs, closing their wings softly. “This is the Cult of Yog Weh’Lun. I don’t want to know how you joined, but all we can say is... you can’t go back from where you came.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Normal Hijinks

**Author's Note:**

> For my dearest family I have made over the years. But mostly for Zack and Hunter, the great voices behind… well, Zack and Layarteb.  
> And to all of those Precipice of Darkness fans who still keep that final candle lit in the darkness.  
> Oh, and of course, Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik. I couldn’t have done it without your brilliance. Thank you.
> 
> This is fan work. Most characters and places seen in this book are in ode to their original creators and fandoms. Of course, I do not own them, nor ever shall.  
> With that out of the way, all other names, characters (aside from the brilliant Zack Rhodes), places, and most incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.

“Look, I’m not here to kiss your ass... but...” the dirty blond harshly gnashes through bass strums and quiet saxophone trills. “You win. You beat me fair and square.” His hands delicately flips over his cards, revealing a two and a king. Strong Bad looks from the flop to his own hand, seeing a two pair. Luck doesn’t seem to be on Tycho’s side tonight. Strong Bad certainly takes this for granted.

“Wait- I win? Of course I win!” the astonished crimson coated mortal strums, sweeping his new winnings off of the somewhat sturdy table in front of him. The others, who had left the table and gone off to do their own thing (mainly chewing up the staircase and buying light drinks) stay watchful in the background, waiting for a minor sign that may or may not ever come.

“That was a somewhat good game, Trixie. I’m sorry Luchador-Face’s last hand fucked us both over,” Tycho smiles nonchalantly towards Trixie Trotter, a performer at the Inventory who had stopped to play a round. “You did great, though.”

“Aw, thanks,” she strums softly, a slight Canadian accent flowing through her words. “But luck is never on my side. Pop says it’s from a curse or somethin’. Ever since I met this boy back home. He came and left just like that!”

Trixie snaps her fingers, causing a few of the onlookers to stop conversation. Strong Bad leaps off the table with winnings in tote. Trixie smiles lightly through the slight silence. “Odd isn’t it?”

“What? That the Wrestle Man won? Or that Heavy screwed himself over with that ‘all in’ shit?” Tycho laughs, flipping his small, crimson d20 in his hand. The die swirls around dangerously, almost as if this tiny icosahedron could predict the future. 

“No, no... nevermind. You wouldn’t understand.” Trixie gets up, fluffing her hot pink dress with spunk and vigor.  
“Aw, c’mon, Trix, explain it, I’ll probably know. You’d be surprised.”

“Okay... well, I feel like someone is always watching me back home.” The woman puts her arms on the table, holding her head up with her hands as her elbows support the rest of the weight. Tycho calls a waitress over to get a drink. As she goes off with the questionably sane person’s request, Trixie leans in to Tycho. “He’s approached me more than once.”

“Who? Can you tell me what he looks like?” 

“Young, probably nineteen.”

“When- wait- what the hell? I’m not Max; why am I doing this detective shit? Hey, Max!” Tycho kicks his chair back, relying on the unstable poker table to assist his call to an officer. Quickly, yet reluctantly, Max trots up with his gun in tote, eyes wide with a smile that could serrate through steel. To Tycho, he looks like a walking oxymoron, or something of the sort. Cute, persuasive, and deadly. A good mix when trying to run for president.

“Yeeeeeees?” He closes in to the two, releasing pressure on the gun and the entire situation. Trixie had a hilarious reaction on the first day when she met the four gamblers coming weekly to the establishment. She has gotten used to Max’s evil gait and wanton destruction.

“No- Max, please don’t get involved with this,” Trixie pleads, waving her hands frantically.

“Okay!” He hops back off the stage.

“No, Max, get back here,” Tycho barks.

Max stops mid swivel, growling, “Make up your minds!”

“Okay, fine, Max do whatever.” Tycho sarcastically snarks, reclining back in his chair, glancing at the card strewn table.

“We’re done here? I’m gonna go back to gnawing the hell out of the stair railing!”

“No, I’m not done with you,” Tycho chuckles, flipping the die in his hand. “I was thinking about something.”

“And that is..?” The rabbit tilts his head with an irritated snarl, putting his gun away carefully.

“I thought that I should get the four of us a drink. For the regulars. No offense, Trix.” He glances over.

“Nah, I don’t need to drink before a show.” She shakes her head.

“Suit yourself. What I was saying was that the four of us get together more often than not, and we all know each other to spout off basic trivia, but a man always tells his secrets when given some time to loosen up,” Tycho chortles lightly, softening his expression. 

“But I-”

“Yes, yes, Lagomorph. Still. At least come with us.”

“Eins, zwei, drei, vier,” the mellow voice of the saxophonist wisps, leading off the others into a calm suite of melancholy music. The song fills the two’s ears, peaking their interest quite quickly.

“I can’t help but feel that I’ve heard this before.” Max tilts his head towards the quartet, listening to their ensemble. “Maybe I’ve been to a place where this was... I think it was the White House.”

“No, no it wasn’t. The White House has weird presidential music. This sounds...” The beat picks up slowly, adding in a few more instruments to the mix.

“German,” the two determine at once, looking straight at each other.

“But I haven’t been to Germany...” The rabbit suddenly slams his paw on the table. “Maybe I go there fighting giant vampire robots!” Max boasts, looking to Tycho expectantly. Tycho just laughs, nodding quickly, motioning softly with his hands. “Lead on!”

_So he hasn’t been on the Time and Space adventures..._ Tycho’s mind swirls thoughts around like banners in the wind. _That makes things a bit more interesting._ Tycho leads Max towards Heavy’s booth, which overlooks the poker table, and has a clear shot to the stage. “Hey, Heavy. Come join us for a drink at a different bar across the way.”

“Why would I take offer from Spy like you?” The giant snarls, gaining a threatening stance, even though he is sitting down below the line of sight of Tycho.

The man places a hand on his neck, rubbing it cautiously, along with wording his next approach. “Well, I just thought that I could buy you guys a drink. In a different place. I was going to ask Strong Bad next.”

“If he says no, could I threaten him into submission?” Max chirps, gnashing his teeth happily.

“No, Max, we’ll need him for other games,” Tycho retorts. “Well, and his fanbase would rip us to shreds.”

“Aww.” Max’s vigorous grin falls.

“And besides...” Tycho strums softly. “Remember what happened to Gabe and Spy the last time they had a dispute?”

“I regret bringing Spy,” Heavy whines, shuffling uncomfortably from the past being dug up. The last time Tycho brought Gabe was the time when Heavy first brought Spy. Heavy won the tournament, taking Tycho’s collateral, a gilded and burnished watch that belonged to his friend Jonathan Gabriel. As Heavy had no use for it, he gave the watch to Spy, who used it as an invisi-watch with a few minor changes to the workings of the chronometer. When Heavy brought Spy, the snake wore his newly acquired treasure, flaunting it off one last time before putting it into the recesses of the cache of valuable items. Tycho had neglected to mention that Gabe was- and still is like a dragon with lustrous hoard; protective, dangerous, and very easy to anger, especially when provoked. When Gabe saw the watch, the repulsive charm sparked a chain reaction that wouldn’t be forgotten by all who were there for the spectacle.

“I won’t make the mistake of bringing Gabe again,” Tycho huffs. “Although, both Spy and him are banned from The Inventory altogether.” The man holds a finger up to interject a quick thought. “If any of us go on an impractical world saving adventure, and we somehow meet up with Gabe, remind me to not appoint him into our group.”

“Da,” the Goliath nods slowly. “And Spy.” Heavy grabs his glass, taking a short swig of the drink within. 

“So I am guessing that’s a no...”

Heavy laughs lightly, pushing aside the glass. “Nyet, I will come. I need no more drink, but I will come. Thank you for offer.”

“No problem, Heavy.” Tycho offers a hand to the man, setting forth an optimistic mood towards the group. Heavy smiles, brushing the hand aside, getting up with no aid. Tycho chuckles, banking off to Heavy’s side as he takes a step out of the booth. “Now we’re off to get Strong Bad.”

“On it!” Max darts off quickly, weaving through tables and chairs, upsetting multiple people who are conversing and drinking. “HEY STRONG BAAAAAAAD!”

A quick, “Oh heeelllll no!” is the response to Max’s war-cry. Strong Bad lunges from his play on the Bluster Blaster, abandoning his progress to escape the Maelstrom of Max, which fleetly approaches at roughly forty knots. “No!” Strong Bad hooks his hand on one of the stairwell barricades, swinging his body around to higher ground. His footsteps reverberate loudly on the wooden panels, attracting more unwanted attention. 

“Should we stop them before they get too chaotic?”

Tycho tilts his head towards Heavy, looking at the runners on the stairwell.

“Da. Is time to take them home.”

As the red form blurs onto the second floor, the rabbit slams past with garring speeds, leaping up the first few steps. In the seconds to follow, a loud thump and whoosh of air. The hunter has caught his prey. 

“God- Ow! Get off of me, man!” In response to his plea, Max bears his teeth, and slams his jaws on Strong Bad’s arm. “OW!” 

“Max, what did I say about consuming people smaller than you?”

Max sighs with Strong Bad’s forearm in his mouth, “Nof to eaf tfem unlef if’s Tuesday nighf, or they’re armed wif crossbows and licorice. Or if they are Gabe.” Max lets the arm fall out of his maw. Strong Bad groans, shaking saliva off of his hand. 

“Exactly.” The man turns to the more unfortunate soul, crowing, “I was hoping you would like to get a drink with us.”

“Here, or somewhere else? You do know we’re in a bar, right?” Strong Bad stands, brushing off the fact that Max completely tackled him to the ground. 

“I do, but The Inventory’s charm wears off after a bit of chip throwing. I would rather us go out somewhere... maybe... more exquisite.”

“You mean ‘away from our normal hijinks,’ don’t you?”

Tycho’s serious posture shifts into that of a slightly astonished pose. He stammers for a second before answering, “Basically.”

“Eh, why not? It’s not like I’m buying it or anything...” Strong Bad joins the group, a slight smirk dawning on his face. Tycho then leads the group to the door. While Heavy holds it open for them, they pass the barriers and bookshelves to the open alley, overlooking a shiny plate that is to the left of the door, spouting history of the establishment. 

Tycho hums, turning his head towards the busy street. “It is the apex of business around it, winning the war between the Inventory and other nearby taverns.”

“And we’re going there because..?” Max ambiguously tilts his head up towards Tycho. 

“The Inventory draws in... a specific crowd. The clique that the other clubs siphon in is more broad. Therefore they will have better brews.”

“What.”

“I keep forgetting I’m not talking to people like Anne. They’ll have better drinks, Max,” the man snarls, leading them out into the street. “Now come on. They close after two.”

The others had neglected to see what time had passed between their last game and now. Short it may have seemed, but time is of no essence to them. 

“Hey, wait- are we going there?” Max points towards a rustic, worn down looking building that stands out from the other nearby edifices. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Tycho leads the posse onward, jaywalking across the street to their first attempt at outside friendship. The haunted feel of The Inventory looms over them like rain clouds, dreary yet calm. It’s as if the gods are preparing something on their high throne on Olympus. 

The group soon finds a somewhat secluded place in the bar, annoying all of the staff as they came in right at closing, but with the money they hold, anything could stay open a few minutes longer. “So, tell me,” Brahe begins with finesse, continuing onward to a slight condescending tone. “What do you guys usually do after going back to wherever your home is?”

“Well,” Max trumps, “Sam usually scolds me for taking home less money than I go out with. Let’s just say it’s more than ten thousand.”

“How much money do you usually bring?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Fair enough. How about you, Strong Bad?” Tycho pushes on.

“I usually just feed the Cheat and then go to bed. Sure, Strong Sad is worried twenty-four seven, because I don’t tell him where I’m going, but after crying for three hours, he usually collapses asleep in a pool of his own tears.” Strong Bad sips his drink, looking at the others’ worried expressions. “What? It’s not like he needs me. He has Strong Mad.”

“Moving on...” Max breathlessly pushes the conversation into lighter areas.

“I go home and protect RED Team. Is all,” Heavy plainly states, holding his head high. 

“Tycho?” 

He smiles almost lovingly towards the table, or something the others cannot visibly see. “I go home to my kids, and check to see if they’re okay. Yes, they should be sound asleep, but if Elliott or Ronia ever wake from nightmares, or simply need fatherly love, I would rather be there for them than not. This is my reasoning for sometimes canceling matches early.”

“Wow.” Strong Bad looks to him, stupefied.

“I did not know you have children,” Heavy coos softly. 

“I do. They’re the world to me. If anything ever happened to them, I’d torture and then kill whoever did the wrong. I don’t know what I would do if I lost them... probably kill Gabriel, and then myself.”

“But you have family,” Heavy looks at him with a somber, yet inviting smile. “And family is worth protecting.”

“Indeed it is, Heavy. Indeed it is.”


	2. Behind Closed Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This book was originally written from the beginning of 2018 to the end of 2019. These first few chapters are old styles of my writing, and are shorter.
> 
> I’ll be releasing these every few days or so. The only hold up is me italicizing or bolding quotes.

The overall feel of drowsiness washes over the group like rain clouds from a slow gust of wind. Max yawns slightly, resting his head on Heavy, which proceeds to be his Sam for just a little while. The man’s surveying eyes float towards Tycho, motioning to the clock that is on the wall. The Brahe nods, getting up slowly. “Come on, Strong Bad.”

With a loud and almost obnoxious movement, Strong Bad leaps out of the booth, quickly getting scolded by the two vigilant watchers. As he exits, Heavy cradles Max in his arms, softly holding him against his chest to make him feel warm. The rabbit seems more than just calm in his hold. “How would we find his place?” Heavy whines almost silently, nodding his head towards the doorway.

Tycho offers up an interjection, “We... damn... I don’t know. I know what his office looks like, I just don’t know what street it’s on. The name, I know what the street looks like.”

“We just walk, then?”

“We do. We shall find it eventually.”

“How would we?”

“I haven’t thought that part through,” Tycho’s head bobs slowly. “I presume we just stick together for the most part.” After saying this, a wave of what seems like dizziness engulfs the group like a wave, first effecting one and then another, almost like an invisible force washing over them. It stirs Max, but does not wake him. After a few moments, the feeling passes, leaving the three wondering what the thing may have been. Tycho and Heavy exchange nervous glances, looking to Strong Bad, who shrugs.

With his knowledge of abnormalities, Tycho would have normally said something, but this to him is foreign, different than the phases he has felt before. It is a premonition to him. A grave sign, or maybe good, but with a slight knowledge of Apocalyptics, it can be assumed bad. But for what reason?

As the three step out into the darkness, they hastily get their answer. Tycho gapes at the scene before him, a jarring surprise that rattles both Heavy and him. It takes a moment to get into Strong Bad’s head. The street has totally changed since the last time they stepped out into the light of the dawning moon. Dark, dusk colors morphed into lighter, more eye straining colors, different than the street they were on before. The dim sign of a tiny shop across the street is now replaced with a large number of illuminated signs, spouting off many ways why this store is better than the rest. Next to it lay a two story high rise with only one light on, golden and somewhat eye catching.

The sky is more clouded than what they came in with, almost as if this was a larger city with its rolling fog over the area like a blanket, covering the stars. The smell to the trio is bizarre, different than the scent they walked in with, heavier with the scent of gas and economy, than of an outskirt province. Tycho unexpectedly smiles. “Well. Well, well, well. I was... I was not expecting this.” The street lays itself out perfectly to the man, as he touches the bricks on the side of the building as if he knew them by heart. “I knew it would be easy.”

“Where are we?” Heavy looks up towards the left side of the street.

“New York. I know not of which street, but I know this is the exact one we are looking for.” Tycho’s eyes gleam as he looks around the street.

“New York? But I did not enter Inventory in New York.”

“I know. Neither did I. I can assure you that a dark force is at work with The Inventory. It is... _unnatural._ ”

“Dark force? What, is it another one of your nerd things, nerd?” Strong Bad snarls through laughter, trotting in front of Heavy.

“It isn’t a nerd thing, it is Apocalyptics. I’ve seen things like this before. I really should have studied it more.” Tycho runs his hand on the side of the building again, almost caressing the outer structure. “Something is immensely wrong. Or immensely brilliant. Whatever it is, we broke it. We shouldn’t be here.”

Strong Bad pouts, folding his arms impatiently. “And who says we shouldn’t be here?”

“The Law of the Worlds. I read about it only once, and only skimmed (regretfully so, looking back), but it stated something about beings from one world traversing into others.”

Heavy whines softly, “It is not good?”

“No. No, it isn’t,” Tycho wisps. “We have to get home immediately. Who knows what damage we’ve caused by being here?”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. If we can’t be in the same ‘world,’” Strong Bad air quotes, “then how can we be in The Inventory together? Same place, same time.”

“That I do not know.” Tycho looks into the skies, closing his eyes. They quickly open with a red sheen. “ _But I would love to._ ”

“Alright, turn the creepy factor down,” Strong Bad demands, sidestepping closer to Heavy.

“We must return Bunny,” the RED man coos, holding Max closer to his head. Tycho nods, motioning for the two to follow him.

As the group approaches the tiny high rise, Brahe carefully treads up the stairs to the door, looking directly to the right. A keypad with tiny buzzers and names sits longingly for someone to use it. Tycho answers its call. The man hesitantly pushes the buzzer reading “S&M, Freelance Police.” A long and grated buzz is heard, but no reply comes. Tycho is tempted to push it again, but he waits, knowing that the lights are on upstairs.

“Hello?” The voice is calm, warm, welcoming, and overall a relief for the group.

Tycho ruffles his sweater, almost looking regretful, as if he were going to a formal meeting. “Yes, good night, sir. I am Tycho Brahe, and I am here to give you back Max.”

A slight pause resonates through the group, carrying over to the being on the other end. “I told him he should have stayed home tonight. What did he do?” Sam snarls softly.

“Nothing, he just got tired. Heavy is his honorary Sam right now.” Tycho looks back to him with a smile. He returns it cheerily.

“Heavy? Tycho?” the hound laughs softly, “Max has said a thing or two about you few.” Tycho stiffens, slowly glancing back at Heavy again. “Heh, I can assure you they were good things. Come in! Bring the little scoundrel with you.” A second after his little speech ends, the door unlocks in front of Tycho.

Tycho gingerly slinks into the building, holding the door open for Heavy and Strong Bad. A raindrop lands on the human’s hand, warning him of the storm to come. He hastily ushers the two inside. Slight thunder accompanies the slight thump of Strong Bad closing the door and the click of the lock. The duo waits for Brahe to lead, encase there would be some unforeseen danger lurking around corners, up staircases, or behind closed doors.

Tilting his head around the stairwell exit to the second floor, Tycho eyes out of the ginger smelling, dimmed hallway for any sign of life. As none appears in his view, he presses onward, starting the form of a circle in front of a door marked with the symbol of Sam and Max’s badge. The door adjacent to it has a revolver with marked out words. The name Flint Paper still stands. Multiple bullet holes riddle the outer ring of the doorframe, while three allay just below the clouded window. It doesn’t exactly spell out inviting.

 _Rebarbative, yes, but if Gabriel were here, he would charge on in without a forethought._ Tycho shudders slightly. _Who knows what we could screw with if we go breaking into other things?_ Without another thought, the man quickly knocks on Sam’s door, getting a quick greeting and smile from the dog. From what he’s seen, Tycho has always known Sam as the lovable, approachable one. Standing at roughly six foot two, it could be pretty intimidating for one to come and spew forth woes to the guy. But his genuine smile and open handed greeting makes the situation all the more friendly.

It is then that the two giants lock eyes. No words are spoken at all as Heavy walks into the room, calmly and slowly. Sam’s falcon like gaze drops to the somewhat limp figure of Max in the man’s arms. Their eyes meet in the middle, and soon the gentle beasts hone their senses on the other, like a stare-down, almost like a fight waiting to begin. They know of the other’s powers, their prowess, their brute strength... or lack thereof. The bear steps towards the dog, not snarling, but open. A smile, not bared fangs. The graceful, ceremonious Bestowing of Max is something to behold.

“You aren’t... exactly what Max said you looked like...” Sam nods his head as he places Max on an oversized pillow next to Sam’s main desk.

“Izvinite?” Heavy semi-snarls, knowing that this may very well be an insult.

Sam looks displeased with himself; his muzzle purses slowly, as to show the regret with one’s actions. “No, no, please take no offence. It was Max who described you so... incorrectly.” The two look to the sleeping rabbit in a tiny fit of giggle-like chuckles.

“Is fine, is fine,” Heavy wisps. “Rabbit did not describe you, he just talked about stories with you. Very funny stories.”

Tycho churrs, folding his arms respectfully. “More than just your normal oddball story, as well.” The folds of his sleeves covers the top portion of the first and largest stripe of his sweater, almost like ripples in an ocean. A well knitted ocean, at that.

“No- like, dude, those stories were insane.” Strong Bad struts up with what seems like a glare. “The way he told it was mostly annoying.”

“They’re pompously hilarious stories. I’ve played through most of them...” Tycho’s voice suddenly drops in volume in the downhill of the sentence.

“Great day in the morning! You know our franchise?” Sam’s attention is peaked towards Tycho, who obviously is someone with volumes of knowledge.

Tycho sheepishly smiles. “Yes, and a lot of my friends as well, but none more than me knows you to such an... extent.”

“Extent? Please, elaborate.”

“Seasons.”

“We have multiple seasons? Damn, now that’s how you lose a bet,” Sam heartily laughs, motioning for the group to sit down in a tiny cluster of chairs.

“You guys were betting on having multiple seasons?” Strong Bad hops up into his chair, dangling his tiny feet over the edge.

“Yes. Or rather, how long it was until our next big case. It’s only been five, approaching six months since the last major case (the one about Hugh Bliss on the moon), and we were wondering when exactly the next story would come.” Sam’s snout turns towards Tycho, focusing most attention on him. “Could you tell me when the next chapter of our story will come?”

“I cannot tell you when, but I can warn you it will be soon. Very soon.”

Sam slides curiously towards the edge of his seat. “Oh! Are you stopping one of those ‘time paradox’ things Max has been rambling on about?”

Tycho stiffens. The second season had a huge involvement with time travel. The game’s name was _Sam and Max: Through Space and Time_ ; it’s a dead giveaway. Yet, Tycho dare not ruin their times ahead. Even if it is for the worse. Time is a fickle thing. Messing with it could prove fatal. And besides, Apocalyptics tells a tale of time and death; Brahes know either to, or not to mess with it. In this case, this Brahe does not. “Yeah... Yeah, something like that.”

Sam nods, yawning slowly. “Thank you three so much for returning Max back to me.” The trio chuckles, as this to them sounds like a boy happy to see his dog who had gotten lost or run away, when in fact it is the other way around. A dog happy to see his hyper-kinetic rabbity... thing. But his motive is a clear sign of peacefully edging them out of his sanctum. Tycho takes the hint and bows softly, turning swiftly to take the other two out of the room.

“Well that was... weird,” Strong Bad yawps, stretching his arms out slowly.

“Trust me, it makes sense.” Brahe shifts his weight towards the staircase. “Let’s go before more damage is dealt.”

As the three trot down the stairs a shrill cry splits their ears. The scream of a woman, possibly around the age of forty or older. Tycho sighs, glancing at the two others, not wanting to get involved with any other shenanigans that the world may throw at them.

“So we’re not going to acknowledge the childish scream?” Strong Bad faces Tycho with a confused and worried glance.

The man hisses loudly, “We can’t go delving into things, Luchador. We cannot go screwing with this.”

“But lady needs our help,” Heavy pleads.

‘“But,’ nothing! We can’t go meddling in dark work!” Tycho stops dead on the stairway, causing Strong Bad to almost knock him over.

“Dude, why did you just stop?! Get out of the way, dorkface!”

Tycho’s inner self begins to decide what his fate long ago has sealed. More than just worlds have pre-chosen fate. “Fine... just this once. We’ll go save the woman, and then we go straight home. We must be as swift as possible. I feel like the world doesn’t want us here.”


End file.
